


Taking Inventory

by AmputeeTrainee



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Smut, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shotgunning, Size Difference, Temperature Difference, Thighs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28533975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmputeeTrainee/pseuds/AmputeeTrainee
Summary: It was supposed to be a quick delivery. In and out. Twenty minutes tops.
Relationships: Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 308





	Taking Inventory

**Author's Note:**

> So...I woke up thinking it's Monday? When I finally realized it wasn't, I decided to edit and post this as a treat~ This may have gotten a little, um, [gratuitous](https://gifs.ninja/slut/). Like, I legit can’t believe I wrote this. My partner requested thighs and handsy content and idk. This just kept going. Thought about cutting it, but fuck it, tis the season of giving. :)
> 
> Based on this [lovely art](https://twitter.com/darkcatss/status/1343723334098432002).
> 
> Happy New Year!  
> I need to go lay down…  
> Come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/AmputeeTrainee). <3

It was supposed to be a quick delivery. In and out. Twenty minutes tops.

Hermes had already dropped off the shades for the day on an earlier trip. Now just to handoff a secret stash of wares he'd collected during the day—a crate of nectar, two bags of gems, several bolts of linen, and a whole basket of pomegranates. 

He can find the vault now, or rather it finds him. 

Hermes zipped through the temple and past the empty dock. He sprinted across the familiar yet ever-changing fields and waterways of Elysium until he came to one of the glowing, unearthly sealed entrances to Erebus.

He urged the door embedded into the ground to open, and the skull-lid parted with a hiss. Steam rose from the depths below. He slipped inside without hesitation, grinning ear to ear. The metal door gritted shut behind. Hermes supposed, like all the passages in the Underworld, the gate could lead to other unknown places. For him, it always led to the same location.

The mist and darkness closed in, then thinned, spitting him out into a familiar, gleaming room lined with treasures. Their little side hustle filled Charon's shop with goods and gave Hermes a steady stream of gold. Best of all, it served as an excuse to spend time together outside the strict confines of their duties. 

The Stygian ferryman was there and not at all surprised at his arrival. The tall, floating figure merely turned as Hermes darted near, clearly having been recounting the hoard that lay glimmering around the edges of the chamber. Despite the blood-red waters of the Styx, the air down here was always frigid. 

“Hello again, my affable associate,” Hermes greeted, fluttering beside the boatman.

“Gghhaaa...” an agreeable rumble followed, and Charon’s hatted head dipped once.

The wide brim cast most of his associate’s gaunt face in shadow. The burning light of Charon’s eyes looked up, and Hermes felt himself perk up little at the bright attention, wings fluffing. 

“I had a moment, and well, I couldn't wait to show you what I found—come on!”

Vapor wafted thickly in a stream from blackened teeth as Charon offered another nod. 

He tugged on the gilded hem of Charon’s robe, ushering the man to the far corner of the room, intent on showing off his findings. His words had been truthful, mostly. While Hermes hadn’t necessarily brought anything extraordinary today, he had trouble waiting to present his offerings all the same. 

Charon was a rule-driven man. The boatman always examined and took inventory of the merchandise Hermes brought. After some suggestion decades ago, his associate finally got an actual desk and two chairs for their business meetings. The little arrangement was set up near the back of the vault amid piles of obols, bobbles, and stacks of scrolls. 

Not that Hermes ever used his seat. 

The boatman sat, resting the heavy oar against the far edge of the table, ready to see the selection. Hermes plopped down on the arm of Charon’s chair as if he owned it. He emptied his satchel onto the table before them, happily noting each item and where he got it. 

Charon listened, offering nods and questioning rumbles at the descriptions. 

“I understand nectar is something of a commodity down here,” Hermes said, handing his associate a bottle to inspect. “But one would think with the steady supply a certain someone keeps bringing, you could stand to lower your prices—you’d move more merchandise.” 

“Ahhh...Hhoo…” A soft groan of rejection eased from Charon. 

Hermes swore violet light rolled once in empty sockets as he tried to restructure the ferryman’s pricing system, again. He couldn’t help but laugh and give the dark side a playful swat.

“Just a suggestion, my closefisted friend,” he added with a teasing smile. 

He remained balanced beside the boatman, daring to lean a little too close and touch too long. 

He ran his mouth, as usual, pressing his side against a solid shoulder and chilled muscled arm. Charon counted as expected, inspecting each item, taking stock, forecasting profits. 

The cold back of a hand brushed the side of his thigh. The hem of his chiton ruffled as the arm Hermes leaned against moved. A wide palm cupped his knee entirely, ringed fingers gently kneading into the skin beside the joint.

Hermes swallowed thickly, feeling his heartbeat suddenly flutter like a hummingbird against his ribs. Charon didn’t stop counting, so he didn't stop talking. Still, any inkling of this being a quick business meeting started to evaporate. His mind raced, already restructuring his delivery schedule.

"The linens are soft, but next time, I'll try to find more silks—the softer, the more expensive," Hermes tried to offer helpfully as the other picked up a bolt of fabric.

A non-committal murmur answered. 

Charon tested the thread count briefly before placing the fabric in the counted pile. The touch moved higher up his leg, almost absently. Hermes bit his lip briefly. Rough pads slid into the warm crease between his pressed knees, grazing the tender skin.

Divine beauty aside, Hermes knew his legs were his best asset. He couldn’t help but tense a little, showing off a relief of muscle. The cold touch tightened back. Warmth fluttered in the pit of his stomach. A shiver raced down his spine. 

He rambled on half-mindedly, talking about the new wares he'd seen. The bustle of the mortal agoras above. The different kinds of spices that continued to come from the east. New types of tea that seemed to bloom like flowers at the bottom of a cup.

Ringed fingers continued to trace the strength that lined his thighs. Every touch was careful, deliberate, slow. Still, Charon didn’t stop counting. The other large hand shifted merchandise one by one. Plucking an item and examining it to and fro before placing it neatly on the other end of the table. 

He's tried to get Charon to keep a proper inventory and write it down on several occasions. The ferryman always refused. The man would just tap the temple of his bony head as if to say it was all kept there perfectly. 

So, he talked. Charon counted. And the cold touch caressed him. 

Hermes was not a patient being, but there is no rushing the boatman. Each icy whisper of skin against his own made goosebumps rise. His stomach tensed, heat pooling toward his core. 

Words kept flowing, but his sentences were higher, airier. Attention fractured, it became harder to remember little details about the gems, fabrics, and contraband he brought. His voice quivered when a forearm whisked the hem of his chiton. Hermes unconsciously shifted his posture to stay balanced, legs starting to part. 

He wasn’t sure what he was saying anymore, hasn’t for a while now, focused on the hand idly lingering against the softness of his inner thigh. Coolness dipped under the leather band wrapped there, toying with the material. Hermes felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. 

“That’s all I brought for the day, I—!” 

Words caught in his throat as icy fingers tensed. 

The touch massaged into the compound strength of his muscles, then slipped beneath the hem of his skirt. His body suddenly felt taunt as a lyre string. Charon was rarely so forward, and he couldn’t help but relish every second. 

Hermes jolted with a hiss as pain flared along his tailbone, not realizing he’d been practically straddling the arm of the chair. Wings fluttering, he tried to correct his balance, threatening to spill onto the dark lap below. 

A sound escaped Hermes, a whine more than speech. 

Out of items, the long hand moved to grip his waist instead. It was usually a difficult feat to catch the swiftest god. Unless, of course, Hermes allowed it.

Mercifully, Charon pulled him down. He accepted, quickly settling against the dark lap, thighs falling open across thin, cord-like legs. 

Inventory counted; it was time to access the final piece. 

“Hhaa, hhaa…” raspy laughs breezed over his shoulder, likely making fun of his eagerness. 

Hermes felt his ears burn and wings fluff. “Yes, laugh it up—this is your fault, to begin with.” 

It was deceptively easy to forget how large the ferryman was when eye-level beside him. Seated on the long, thin lap, however, the man’s pointed chin brushed the top of his feathered head. 

A pleased, shaky sigh escaped Hermes as hands wrapped around each of his legs near the knee. He flexed, enjoying the way ringed fingers constricted. The icy touch completely encircled the twin, rigid columns of muscle. 

He arched, pressing against the hard bony chest behind him. Reaching back, he looped an arm around the gold collar, hand searching for Charon. Hot fingers carded into soft, wavy hair at the nape of the other’s neck. 

Just as the ferryman accessed every trinket Hermes brought, cold hands worshiped him. Appraised and praised his best assets. Rough thumbs pressed into the power of his thighs, massaging circles higher and higher up soft, supple skin. 

He trembled. The firm, slow touch made heat coil tighter in his core embarrassingly fast. Hermes was known for his swiftness. But it was utterly unfair how quickly the unhurried, thorough exploration fanned the fire simmering through the ichor in his veins. 

Tightening his grip, he pulled Charon down. 

“Come here.”

Hermes tipped back to meet the shadowy planes of the gaunt face. The glow of violet light in sunken sockets shone with burning attention. Warm lips pressed against hard, unyielding teeth. Steamy vapor curled past his flushed cheek, balmy as the mist off of a hot spring. 

Hermes inhaled deeply. 

Heat pooled into his mouth, curled down the back of his throat, and filled his lungs. The scent of cinnamon and frankincense, wealth and funeral rites, swam across his pallet. Filled him. Made his eyes water, chest tremble.

Hermes exhaled with a shuttering gasp, senses in a daze. A plume of purple vapor left him, perfuming the air like incense. He leaned heavily against the other, grip shifting to knuckle the golden collar. 

The wandering touch working up his legs didn’t stop, but one weight peeled away. Coolness skimmed the side of his jaw. A ringed hand gently cradled his face. 

Kissing Charon was unlike any lover he’d ever had. The ancient deity had no lips, so the man understood Hermes how he cataloged everything else—by touch. A chilled thumb whisked across his lower lip, tugging slightly, playing with the plumpness. Hermes parted his mouth, tongue eagerly swiping against the cool, calloused pad. 

Charon tilted his grip, long fingers resting against the tender underside of Hermes's chin to chase the teasing muscle. The wide thumb eased past parted teeth to massage the warm, wetness of his mouth. Hermes couldn’t help but moan, eyes closing. His lips drew in earnest on the cold digit. Cheeks hollowing, he sucked the tip deeper. 

"Ggrraaaa…" A low sound emitted from his associate, appreciative and curious all in one. 

Vibrations resonated through Hermes as the hand on his leg eased higher, lifting the hem of his skirt. A work-worn palm traced the curve of his hip and the swell of his backside. The touch tensed, thumb digging into the dip of his pelvis and fingers into the firm roundness of his ass in one possessive grasp. 

Hermes quaked. Wings fluttered. 

He moaned as the digit dipped deeper. Relaxing his throat, he swallowed around the cold flesh as it reached further into his wetness. The thumb pressed down, then withdrew. His eyes opened as fingers tented delicately against his chin. 

Hermes brushed the hand aside and twisted in the other’s arms, moving to sit across the dark lap sidesaddle. He threw his legs over one armrest with a flourish and leaned back against the lacquered wood of the other chair arm. Charon accommodated him, splaying a hand along the small of his back while the other made itself quite comfortable on the flat of his thigh. 

Shifting to sling an arm across broad shoulders, Hermes pulled Charon down again. He skimmed a hand across the hard planes of the shadowy face, thumbpad smoothing along a prominent cheekbone. 

Violet light flickered back softly. A low murmur rolled through the bony chest. A warm rush of vapor brushed his face. 

“Breathe into me.”

Charon leaned nearer. Hermes closed the distance. He let his hot tongue run along sharp, black incisors before pressing his lips wetly to the grinning, skeletal mouth. Inky teeth parted, capturing his bottom lip before biting down. Hard. 

Hermes gasped with a groan. 

Vapor coiled in. Warm. Moist. Filling the cavity of his throat. The cottony feeling in his lungs as intimate as the coolness caressing his cheek or the roughness kneading into the suppleness beneath his skirt. His loins ached for attention, raising the front of his garment. 

Exhale. 

Hermes was coming undone. 

Teeth released. Hermes couldn’t help but press back fiercely, mind clouded and drifting on waves of euphoria. He dipped his tongue past black teeth to capture the night and nebula pouring out in hazy wisps. Cold fingers moved to grip the back of his neck, holding him in place. 

Inhale. 

Heat flared through him, burning in his lungs, singing through his veins, gravitating in the pit of him. Legs eased apart, welcoming the cold hand insinuating itself between hot, muscled thighs. He shivered as rough pads traced the ‘v’ where hips meet more sensitive ground. 

A firm grip finally took hold of him at the root. Hermes arched. His head tipped back, breaking their kiss, plumes of vapor spilling past parted lips with a moan. The cold palm encircling his heated flesh made his heart pound and eyes screw shut. 

Words tumbled from his lips, a mixture of pleads and praises. The grip squeezed then relented, thumb swiping the weeping head of his length. Hermes cried out, legs flexing. The cold touch engulfing his cock stroked him slowly, teasingly. 

Hermes opened his eyes and glanced down. The motions were explicit but hidden under the fabric of his chiton. Hermes flipped the hem of his skirt back. He groaned appreciatively, and legs parted further at the sight of his manhood disappearing rhythmically in the grey, gilded grip. 

He thrust upward into that fist. The position was awkward. His face scrunched, hips angling to chase his release. The clink of obols sounded in time with his movements, jingling along the gold collar.

The tightness around his length let go. 

Pleads and gasps of ‘no, don’t stop’ spilled thoughtlessly from Hermes as strong arms moved him. One hand grabbed the thickness of his thigh, the other slid up the curve of his hip, taking fabric with it, to turn him around. 

At that moment, Charon could have manhandled him anywhere, and Hermes would have submitted. And he did. He let go, allowing himself to be returned to his former position seated firmly on the cold lap, back pressed against a barrel chest, held in place by an iron grip on his waist.

The boatman was not unaffected. Hermes could feel the cloth-covered hardness pressing against the cleft of his backside. He rocked his hips, grinding down onto the lap beneath him. Flexing pert globes, he squeezed against the bulge. 

A deep, heated sound rumbled along his spine, echoed in the cavity of his chest, and filled his ears. Vapor fumed in a warm wave down his neck and over his clavicle—cold, bare teeth pressed against the blade of his shoulder. 

Hermes shivered. Words left his lips is a flurry.

“I beg you, don’t stop,” seemed to be the most potent mantra. 

His pleads finally spurred the other to take mercy. 

A cool palm stroked his aching length again, rings rubbing and kissing the sensitive flesh. Hermes nearly doubled over with a cry, hands falling forward to grip the hold capturing his side. Hot fingers slotted against chilled ones. He tried to thrust forward into that delectable pressure. 

Cold fingers curled into the curve of his pelvis, thumb pressing into the center of his back. The hand at his side held firm. Unrelenting. Unmoving. His hips quivered but could not jut forward. Head bowing lower, something like a sob burst from his lips.

The languid strokes teased him, driving him mad. Charon’s attention was steady, but not enough. Strokes balanced on the fine line between kindness and cruelty. 

“Pleaaaassse,” Hermes urged, legs tensing, muscles quaking, teeth clenching. 

The boatman supplied. The pressure picked up speed. Obols chimed. Breathy cries spilled out of Hermes. The hand on his side crept upward like a giant spider, coming to cup the swell of his ribs. 

The hold forced his shoulders back against a solid sternum. Stiff fingers kneaded into his peck, brushing his nipple and making the skin pebble. Hips free, Hermes frantically thrust forward, pumping himself into that welcoming fist. 

Teeth grazed the crest of his shoulder before sharpness bit down. Hot clouds fanned across his skin, causing goosebumps to rise down his back. The hand on his chest skimmed upward. 

A cool palm pressed against the flat of his throat, fingers wrapping gently to feel his hammering pulse. 

“Yes, pleas—”

The hand tightened. 

Air cut off, Hermes saw white. His eyes rolled back. 

The world narrowed, all sound drowned away, as if his head was underwater. The warmth coiling in the pit of him snapped. Wings spasmed. Hips stuttered as he spilled in thick ropes onto the dark lap below. His ears rang. Slick heat eased his last few thrusts. 

The pressure along his throat and cock released. 

Hermes gasped and tipped forward, boneless. Charon splayed a broad hand against the center of his chest and pulled him back in place. Another firm touch wiped the mess he’d made in a slow sweep down the bare skin of his thigh. Hermes shivered as his seed cooled in the air of the Underworld on his sweaty skin. 

Sucking in ragged breaths, Hermes came back to himself. Wide, ringed fingers softly drummed against his damp sternum. Any pretense of adjourning this meeting gone, he pushed against the hold and turned to face his associate.

Wings propelling him around, he knelt firmly, pressing his knees against thin, iron-strong legs. Long hands settled on his hips, able to completely wrap about his belted waist. Now facing the boatman a little above eye-level, he had more access. 

Grabbing the brim of the gilded hat, Hermes tossed it aside where it landed somewhere among stacks of obols. 

“Much better, my distinguished associate,” he purred, a smile lifting his lips. 

Linking his arms around broad shoulders, Hermes drank in the sharp, tight planes of the ancient deity’s face. He played with soft hair the color of silver. The boatman tipped his head back, spilling wisps of warmth and spice into the air. 

While Charon might be a bit startling at first-sight, Hermes never quite understood why more individuals weren’t captivated by the mysterious, stoic ferryman. Eyes of violet flame stared back at him, bright and unwavering. Deep vibrations rumbled, rattling against his chest. A large hand moved to trail down the curve of his hip before squeezing the swell of his backside. 

Hermes pressed lingering kisses to the chilled, sunken face. He swore razor cheekbones were a shade darker as if ichor had gathered under the stiff visage. He moved to cup the severe jawline, thumbing at parchment-thin skin affectionately. 

The dark face turned away. A large, ringed hand captured his own, temperate now because of their prolonged contact. Cold, black teeth pressed against his palm, nipping gently at the sun-kissed skin. Misty heat coiled against his hand.

Hermes felt his ears burn and knees grow weak. 

He tipped the striking face toward him to kiss the other deeply. Warm, wet lips flatted against hard, pitch-black enamel. He thrust his tongue past parted teeth hungrily, mouth opening to take in the darkness that spilled forth. 

Inhale.

The world swam, slowing a fraction. Hermes felt like he’d just drank from the rarest ambrosia. His rapid attention narrowed to only the warmth coiling thickly in his lungs, the wandering touches kneading deeper into the cleft of his ass, and the burning glow of heated attention. 

Hermes tipped his head back, a deep stream of lavender vapor shakily escaping his parted lips. He leaned forward again, pressing his sweat-slicked forehead against a cool, bony one. 

“What does it feel like to you when we do this? When I breathe you in?" Hermes asked, wondering if it was as mutually euphoric as he always assumed. 

Violet light held his gaze. 

Large fingers reached and tented over his chest gently, directly over his hammering heart. The calloused tips tensed. As if able to feel through fabric, flesh, and bone to the thundering organ beneath. 

“Aaahhh,” Charon breathed a soft, rattling sigh at him. 

Thick mist gusted across his skin. 

Hermes felt his pulse stutter and wings puff. 

Coils of heat and spice curled across his throat and up his jawline. Violet light held his gaze steadily. The wide hand moved, strong arms coming to wrap around him, pressing them tightly together. Broad fingers traced the line of his neck before carding into his windswept hair. A sharp, icy cheek nestled against his flushed face. 

His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

Hermes felt his skin prickle with heat, despite the cool temperature of his associate. Warmth bloomed across his face, burning the tips of his ears and spilling down the center of his chest. Every fiber of him felt like it was positively glowing. 

Hermes had never been so in love. 

A flutter of affection poured out of him. He captured that sharp face, cupping hollow cheeks in tan palms. The spiking desire to be closer, closer, closer, spurring him to kiss, lick, and nip along inky teeth. Vapor and spice filled his senses. 

A large hand caught his shoulder. Charon put a little distance between them. Violet light burned down at him as Hermes pulled back. He sat on his haunches, hands coming fist the dark fabric draped across Charon’s chest. 

Rough pads traced along his bottom lip, smoothing along pliant, rosy flesh. Two large fingertips curled suddenly, slipping inside his mouth, hooking behind his bottom teeth. Hermes keened. A deep growl reverberated in answer.

Immediately, his hot, wet tongue dipped in between the digits parting his lips. He traced the lines where gold rings ended and ashen skin began. Touch still slightly tacky from their activity, Hermes tasted the familiar tang of salt.

A needy sound escaped him as he lapped at the traces of himself, tongue curling around long fingers that scissored playfully back. Charon angled further, index and middle finger capturing the slippery muscle between them. 

Hermes couldn’t help but tip his head back with a moan. His jaw went slack. Steady pressure stroked the wetness of his mouth, gently squeezing the slick organ. Saliva trailed down his chin. He dared to thrust his tongue back before sucking around the fingers, lips enclosing tightly. 

He felt obscene. He didn’t care. 

Heat rapidly built in his core again. Vapor wisped over his face and neck as Charon bent closer. Cool, hard teeth traced the line of his throat before nipping softly at the pronounced tendon. Hermes whined, voice muffled by the fingers that filled the back of his throat and pressed down against his tongue. 

The wandering hand liberally groping him finally reached between the valley of his spread, bent legs. Impossibly long fingers rested flatly and pressed against the pucker there. Hermes rocked his hips down, wanting more. More fiction, more pressure. 

More _everything_. 

Teeth bit sharply at the skin of his neck, then withdrew. Fingers left his mouth, wetly moshing his bottom lip before coming to grip his chin. Hermes stared like a love-drunk fool up into eyes that glowed back like eternal cosmic fire. 

Violet light fixed on him. A thumb whisked his cheek. The ferryman’s gaze shifted like candlelight in the wind, to the far corner of the room, then back. The entreaty nested between his thighs rubbed back and forth, the tip of a finger circling his entrance.

In a blur of white and orange, Hermes darted across the vault. 

Papers fluttered, and bottles wobbled in the wake of his air steam. In a heartbeat, he grabbed a vile of oil. The next instant, he zipped back. A rattling ‘oof’ and a puff of vapor left his associate as his momentum pressed them chest to chest, knees immediately straddling thin, long legs. 

Everything Charon did, he performed at his own pace. Once handed the bottle, the man placed it on the empty seat beside them. Hermes brows knit, a frown creasing his lips as Charon pushed him back and moved to undo the many belts adorning his waist.

“Hey, come on, old man. I would say my attire is pretty accommodating enough—”

Large hands gripped his waist completely and tightened, suddenly lifting him. 

Hermes jolted, picked up like a feather. Hot fingers scrambled across the golden collar for purchase. Obols jingled. He groaned as his back hit the cold stone of the table. Shivers raced down his spine as a lean, strong weight settled between his legs. 

Hermes reached to undo the belts; speed up the process. A wide palm caught one wrist, then two. Otherworldly might lifted his arms, pinning them behind his head against the smooth stone in a single grip. He trembled, glancing down at his heaving, sprawled form. Evident desire tented the front of his chiton again. 

Gentle pressure pulled at his waist. Long fingers deftly undid each belt, one by one. Calculated. Analytical. Fiery eyes trailed down his body. Hermes writhed as he was unwrapped, treated with possessive and rapid attention that only seemed rivaled by the man’s lust for gold. 

“You are very convincing,” he managed to say between panting breaths. 

“Hhhhaaassss,” A bone-deep rattle of agreement replied. 

Bindings gone, Charon released him for the moment. Hermes shimmed, letting white and admittedly, soiled godly fabric be pulled off, sliding over his chest and up his arms with a whisper. His associate seemed satisfied when he was stripped to only his boots and the band adorning his thigh.

Curls of vapor licked over the exposed expanses of tanned skin. Large, lovely hands smoothed down his chest, thumbs pressing over his nipples, palms cupping his sides. Then fingers bent, and dark nails lightly drug down the rungs of his ribs and the tight drum of his stomach, making faint welts rise. 

Hermes arched, then sat up. He reached for the looming figure. Fair was fair. Fingers quickly hitched underneath the gilded collar, doing his best to heft it off. Hermes honestly didn’t understand how the other wore such heavy adornments. Amused clouds of purple left his associate, and ringed hands joined to help. 

Collar off, and on the floor, it was easy to rid the ferryman of his dark robes. Charon was all cored muscle and sharp angles. He did not have the showy anatomy of Olympians' but bore a lean, long figure cut from constant labor. The man possessed a raw physicality, rather than ostentatious. 

Charon reminded Hermes of the salty, windswept merchants and sailors operating the docks and ports along the coastline. Towering and broad, but undeniably thin. He could count Charon’s every rib, see the shadows cast by sharp clavicles, and trace the concave of a gray, tight stomach. Through the paper-thin skin, the underlying contour of black bones was visible at the sharpest points. 

Charon was stunning. 

Wisps of thick purple mist brought the vile to a gray, outstretched palm. Hermes frowned, wondering if the other couldn't have just done that sooner. Any complaints he had died when oil spilled onto his lap. The cold liquid dripped down the flat of his tan stomach before pooling in rivulets down his pronounced length.

Hermes gasped, cock twitching. 

An oil-slicked hand soon gripped his thigh. The towering, solid body between his legs leaned forward, and Hermes willingly went down. He looped warm arms around ample, bony shoulders and spread his legs, offering himself.

Pleads fell from Hermes. 

Slick fingers slid between the valley of spread globes, tips circling his entrance. Hermes flexed his hips forward, thighs tensing, trying to force the touch inside. He was granted some relief. Pressure eased long and wide past the tight pucker—a single digit. The touch gradually pulled in and out, drawing praise and blessings from his quick lips. 

His stomach tensed. His fingers curled, biting into bony shoulders. Hermes tried to pull the memorizing face closer, lavish it with attention, breathe in the darkness from the source. But Charon would not bow further. 

The grip on his leg let go, coming to rest against his chin gently instead. Fingers brushed swollen bitten lips. Violet light fixed on his face. Rough pads dipped into the softness of his mouth again, kissing him by touch. Hermes moaned eagerly, lapping and biting and sucking on the now warm digits. 

Unrelenting fingers filled him. Opened him. 

Hermes felt deliciously helpless. Unable to do little more than writhe and moan as his most sensitive places were explored, exploited. Calloused touches stroked his tongue as fingers stretched him. The pleasant burn of a second digit sliding into his hole made his toes curl. 

His chest heaved. Liquid fire pooled in his core. Hermes moved to grip the underside of his bent and quivering knees, daring to lift and hold himself apart. He relaxed, letting his associate breach deeper and deeper.

Dignity felt like a foreign concept in the privacy of the vault. Hermes let his tongue loll wetly around metal rings and flesh. He clenched against searching fingers, welcoming the invasion.

The weight of sharp hips pressed against his spread thighs. Hermes felt his backend forced even higher as fingers slowly scissored him apart. Long digits flexed and curled as they slowly plunged in and out, testing his tightness, willing him to relax. Rings rimmed him at each passing, forcing him steadily wider. 

Sun-kissed legs trembled as a third, and then a fourth finger eased inside. His vision blurred. Hot tears threatened to spill. The tension simmering behind his navel bilt. The pressure in his mouth relented, and fingers withdrew with a wet pop, his tongue chasing them. Hermes took in grateful breaths. 

Charon curled a wide hand along his side. Suddenly, the fingers still tormenting him thrust inside, knuckle-deep. Hermes tossed his head back with a throaty cry. The flat of his skull stung as it hit the table. 

Mind-splintering slow, Charon began to remove his intimate touch. Hermes vibrated, moans spilling from him. He tried to thrust upward. Keep in that delicious fullness. The hold on his side merely tightened, lean weight pressed nearer, locking him in place. Tightness hugged the ridges of every ring as fingers leisurely retreated.

Hermes dug his nails into the back of his knees and tremored. 

“You cruel, cruel man,” he all but sobbed. 

Finally, mercifully, Charon acquiesced. 

Hermes couldn’t help but let out a whimper as long fingers withdrew. The sound grew in pitch, turning into a chest-deep moan as slick, blunt pressure registered instead. Slowly, but persistently, coldness invaded him. The girth made his teeth clench and loins jump. 

Charon’s firm grip encircled his thigh then, hitching his leg higher. The hold lifted him, bending him near in half off the table. Hermes felt his shoulders dig into the sweat-slicked stone. Accommodating his associate always took a moment of adjustment. 

Hermes yearned to snap his hips up to feel the burn quickly. He wanted the jolt of flesh on flesh—the electric tingle to course up his spine. But the iron-grip and on his waist and thigh held steady, near bruising. Anchored to the tabletop, he could only accept what Charon gave. 

His legs trembled as the boatman slowly speared him. He glanced between them, watching as the thin body lowered, generous length disappearing, forcing the pink pucker wide. Breathy cries for more were headed, gradually. Tears rolled down his cheeks. 

The hold on his leg let go. A rough thumb whisked the wetness on his cheek away as a warble of concern emitted from above. Burning light softened as bony hips paused. 

Hermes let out a frustrated whine.

“I’m fine! Soon to be so much better. Please, I know you’d never really harm me—take me!” He cried. 

Huffs of purple laughter issued. 

Hermes groaned, feeling the vibration intimately. Charon’s hands engulfed his waist as grey hips rocked down to fill him in one claiming thrust. Flesh smacked against flesh once, then stilled.

The air left his lungs. 

Hermes wanted to scream. All sorts of embarrassing, lust-laced words flashed through his mind, lips tracing them silently. Yes, yes, gods, yes! I'm yours, all yours. Use me. Instead, he managed to draw in a ragged breath as Charon moved.

His associate's name burst in harsh, panting breaths from his lips. Cold, hard pressure drilled into him. Slowly. Deeply. Filling him to the brim. Fire twisted in his core, each probing thrust striking his softest, most sensitive places. 

Ringed fingers tightened. Hermes moaned as dark nails bit into his abdomen, keeping him solidly in place. His throat felt raw. His legs ached. His cock throbbed, curled flush against his stomach.

He needed more, _more!_ He let go of his legs, wrapping them around lean sides, trying to press them nearer. Hot hands grabbed into the gilded forearms pinning him. Hermes tried to flex upward, stretch quicker around the cool, long girth. Wreck himself faster. His hips stuttered but did not move. The corded arms pinning him held fast. 

He dug his heels into Charon’s back. 

"Move, damn you!" He cried, tossing his head back for emphasis. 

A deep, smoky laugh reverberated above him, through him. Violet light flared in empty sockets before razor-sharp hips snapped forward. Charon was steady and efficient in nearly every task he performed. Destroying the little god held against the table proved no different. 

Lean hips hammered between his legs. Heat simmered through him. Charon filled him with each bone-rattling, skin slapping thrust. Skewered him completely. 

Hermes knew, dimly, that words were flying from his lips. The meaning was lost in his breathy cries, the wet smack of flesh, and the rattling groans that issued from above, but clear all the same—I want you. Only you. 

Hermes reached forward, hands locking behind the back of a chilled, muscular neck. Towering weight leaned down, flattening his sweat-slick back to the stone and pressing them chest to chest. Charon’s grip moved, coming to spread and support quivering thighs. 

Hips unrestrained, Hermes worked against his associate, chasing the tightening in the pit of his stomach. Molten desire burned through him, demanding to be sated. He braced a hand against the table as his hot fingers knotted into silver hair. Charon bathed him in blazing light. The bright, unearthly gaze seemed to drink in what had to be a flushed and ravished countenance. 

Charon dipped his sharp face. Teeth trailed down his sweaty neck before biting down. Hermes keened at the firm pressure and pressed his face against a bony shoulder. Vision obscured by waves of silver and plumes of vapor, Hermes shut his eyes. He released his hold on soft hair to palm and dig his nails into the cool, corded back above. 

Vibrations resonated through his chest as he tried to pull them closer, closer, _closer_. 

Yes, Hermes had taken lovers before, many times over. But it was only here, in this tiny little patch of Underworld, that he let himself be grounded and unwrapped. It was only in the vault, locked away the rest of the world, that he allowed himself to be slowed down. Treasured. Owned completely. If only for a small slice of time. 

The nonsense pouring out of him skipped an octave higher. Sharp hips worked, a slick, sloppy sound following every entry. The rhythm pounding into him was joined by a firm hold stroking his cock. The stretch, the pressure, all of it— _ah!_ His voice broke, choking on his associate's name. 

Held down and spread wide, Hermes could only quake. Wings spasmed. Hot liquid spurts spilled across his stomach. The weight above him slowed but didn’t still. A broad hand milked him through pulses of pleasure. Constant as water running against stone, Charon worked against him until Hermes crumbled. 

Hermes went limp with a shuddering gasp. Vibrations reverberated around him, through him. Sharp hips snapped, filling him to the hilt, then stilled. He could feel tell-tale pulses intimately painting his core. Cold liquid pooled inside of him, and he couldn’t help but shiver and squeeze back. 

Head in the clouds, Hermes was faintly aware of his body being moved in the depths of the earth. Solid stone cooled his heated skin as he laid flush against the table. The lean pressure on his chest pulled away. The dim light of the vault above returned. The fullness withdrew, and he whimpered at the loss of it. 

His eyes fluttered open when a broad hand curled around his side. Violet light looked down at him softly. Hermes sat up and threw his heavy arms around bony shoulders. Charon lifted him, bracing an arm under still-shaking knees. Gods, he couldn’t feel his legs. Warmth throbbed pleasantly between his thighs as he was carried.

Charon returned to his seat, placing Hermes across his lap sidesaddle. He immediately curled against the larger body. Resting his head against a prominent collarbone, he pressed his side fully against the hard chest. Arms wrapped around him, broad palms gently resting against his side and upper leg. Faintly, he could hear something like a heartbeat echo from barrel ribs. 

Usually, Hermes hated feeling tiny or compressed in any way. But there was always an exception to every rule. Yes, he felt enveloped by the embrace of his associate, but not smothered by it. The deepening ties he forged with Charon bound him in a way, but it felt freeing in the same breath. He felt cherished. Beloved. Infinitely special. 

Hermes rested a hand over the hold on his leg. Ringed fingers shifted to intertwine with his own. 

“Well, my schedule is absolutely shattered now. You did a very thorough job taking inventory,” Hermes snorted, thumbing the rough palm.

An amused huff left Charon and ringed fingers tensed softly against his.

“Not that I disapprove of the forwardness, but try to give me a small heads up next time? I am definitely sorely behind and in no condition to be flying out of here right now—thank you very much,” he reprimanded, leaning back to lightly smack the cutting sternum. “How are you going to make this up to me?”

Charon leaned down. A bare mouth kissed along his flushed cheek before the sharp face nestled against his sweaty hair and one ruffled wing. Warm waves of spice and mist coiled against his skin. Teeth grazed down the shell of his ear, capturing his earlobe with a small pinch. Hermes shivered.

“Tempting offer, but that’ll only make me even later my insatiable associate,” he argued, but the words sounded unconvincing even to his ears. 

Another puff of laugher. Teeth released.

Charon leaned back slightly, giving him room to breathe, think. Violet light fixed on him, soft and steady. He really should be going. While he was swift in all things, getting cleaned and redressed would take time. Calloused fingers gently swiped the back of his hand. 

Hermes swallowed, feeling his wings fluff. 

Cosmic fire bathed him with unwavering attention. 

“Just one more kiss, and then I really need to start getting ready to go,” Hermes said with all the seriousness he could muster. 

Charon nodded. A low, affirmative sound vibrated through him, echoed around them. 

Hermes let go of the hand holding him to capture that unforgettable face in his hands. One last, quick kiss. Simple. Easy. 

Closing his eyes, he pressed warm lips to hard, inky teeth and breathed in deeply. Broad hands moved, cupping the small of his back and the side of his thigh—just one last kiss. 

Heat coiled in. His pulse quickened. Wings flittered. Hermes let out a shaky sigh, eyes fluttering open. Violet light gazed back endlessly amid misty coils of spice and vapor. 

Well, maybe just one more. 

Hermes pressed back and breathed in the darkness again.


End file.
